


Perfect

by havesomemore



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin Likes Fat Girls, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Chubby Kink, Dominant Anakin Skywalker, Escalation?, F/M, Feedee Reader, Feeding Kink, Food, Food Kink, Light Dom/sub, Photography, Porn, Pornographer Anakin Skywalker, Pornography, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Relationship(s), Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Stuffing, Vaginal Fingering, Weight Gain, belly play, videos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havesomemore/pseuds/havesomemore
Summary: Looking to make a bit of extra money, you respond to an ad seeking attractive female models to pose for kinky photographs.As it turns out, the kink itself is a little bit weird...but, the man taking the pictures happens to be absolutely stunning. He also seems to think you’re pretty good at this kind of thing.How far into his ‘world’ are you willing to venture, exactly...?
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Reader
Comments: 45
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

“That’s great— sit up a little higher so everyone can see how big you look right now.”

You did as you were told; sat up high on your knees, and pushed your belly out as far as it would go. You weren’t used to looking or feeling quite this way; it was awkward, and slightly embarrassing. You knew, however, that you would be well-compensated for your efforts... and besides that, the man pointing the camera at you happened to be very easy on your eyes. Tall, fit, and blonde; with broad shoulders and a _very_ handsome face, it was not too challenging to focus on him, as opposed to how ridiculously full you felt right now.

“Like this?” you asked, to which he responded by snapping a few more photos of you and your protruding stomach.

“Exactly like that,” he grinned once the camera stopped clicking. “You’re a fucking natural, you know that?”

You sank down heavily, then, onto the mattress. You were in a hotel room— a nice one, graciously— and the man taking pictures of you right now was a self-described fetish photographer whose primary source of income was generated through the production and distribution of weight gain-themed pornography.

You were here simply because you’d answered an ad online in the hope of making some extra cash.

“I didn’t expect this to be so... _ah!_ ” You’d moved the wrong way, and you were so full, it seemed, that doing so had caused you pain. You repositioned yourself on the bed; sat with your legs straight out in front of you, because you were beyond the point of caring about the way you looked right now. (Anyhow, _somebody_ must have found your current state attractive: Again, you were being paid generously for this evening’s performance.) 

You really had thought that this would be easier than it actually was. 

“It’s alright; you were fantastic,” the photographer said, as he set down his camera and approached you, perching on the edge of the bed. It was a very big bed, and it matched the room in that it was both comfortable and fancy. The entire hotel was quite fancy, really; you supposed that meant the income generated from the kinds of photos this man liked to take was anything but meagre. "Anyway," he added, "you’ll get used to it— you _are_ coming back to do this again, aren’t you?”

You looked at the empty box of doughnuts sitting next to you on the bed. You had finished each and every one of the dozen he’d presented you, and a full two litres of the richest, heaviest cream you’d ever consumed on top of that. They hadn't been coffee-shop doughnuts; in fact, they'd been a lot nicer than those: Each of them had seemed to be its own miniature work of art, with an exquisite variety of toppings and fillings. Opening the box had been a pleasant surprise; they'd been so pretty that you almost hadn't wanted to ruin their aesthetic by eating any of them.

You _had_ eaten all of them, though... and until you'd started to feel altogether too full, to do so had been a treat. By now, however, you were so stuffed that you barely recognized your own body. You couldn't stop yourself from wondering what you might end up looking like if you made a habit out of this.

Shifting your gaze from the box, you peered down at yourself instead— you were wearing a silky, lace-trimmed black bra and panties to match, but otherwise you had completely disrobed. Aside from being smeared with custard and chocolate, your stomach seemed enormous to you. You’d never in your life eaten as much food all at once as you had in the past hour or so, and you were quite unused to any part of you looking so swollen. Everything felt so _tight_... and you weren't sure just how you were going to get the stains from the doughnut toppings out of what you were still wearing. You raised a hand, touched your belly gingerly, and were astonished by how taut, round, and sensitive it was. 

“I don’t know,” you told him, in response to his invitation to come and do this again. “I’ve never— I mean, this is—”

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” he finished for you, and as he scooted closer to you on the bed; reached out with his own hand to rub your desperately overfilled, stretched-out little gut. “This is okay, isn’t it?” he asked kindly, even though he’d already started.

You groaned; you couldn’t help it. Anyway, the warmth of his palm atop your bulging midsection was satisfying; helpful— the little circles he was rubbing into you with his hand really did make you feel better, seeming to lessen the discomfort of being so very full. “It’s fine,” you said, and you let your eyes start to close. You began to feel almost as if you were going to fall asleep.

“Lie back,” the photographer told you, as if on cue. 

“Huh? Oh— ‘Anakin’, was it?” You remembered his name because it was unique, like he seemed to be. He nodded in confirmation as you fought to open your eyes back up wide. He really was lovely, you thought, as you told him in spite of his appearance, “I don’t think I should lie down.” You didn’t— whatever he looked like, you’d only known him in person for an hour. What you should have been doing right then was thanking him, and getting dressed again to go home.

...Would your clothes even fit, though, if you tried to put them back on? 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to stay," he said, “but you also don’t exactly look ready to leave.” He finished with another grin, and a shrug that you could only have described as charming.

You didn’t say anything to that; just looked between Anakin and your own bloated body.

 _”Anyway,”_ he continued suggestively in response to your silence, “I can pay you a little bit more if you let me film my hand rubbing your belly for a little while. People like to see the... well, the ‘aftermath’ of these shoots, if you know what I mean.”

You did know what he meant, because you were living it right now. What you didn’t understand was why anyone would ever pay to watch it (not, you supposed, that it really mattered whether you ‘understood’ or not). You contemplated his offer— you’d already stripped to your underwear for him and allowed him to document the process of you eating yourself into what felt like near-oblivion. Sitting atop a hotel bed for him, you had groaned wantonly as you tried with all of your might to finish what he’d put in front of you. As he'd photographed the endeavour, he had not been shy about telling you what a good girl you were; how proud of you he was for being able to eat so much all at once (you loved the way he spoke, and his voice, too, even if you hadn't said so). After all of that, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to let him film himself rubbing you for a little while, would it? 

You hadn’t expected to be touched, no— but, you also hadn’t expected Anakin to be so attractive, or for his attention to feel so good after what you’d just forced your stomach to endure. 

“...Alright,” you agreed, not without some trepidation. “Just don’t try anything weird, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured you, perhaps not realizing the irony inherent in his own statement— his entire profession was weird, as far as you were concerned. Still, although you were wary, you didn’t outright distrust him; not necessarily.

Outside of... well, _this_ , he seemed as if he might just be a fairly decent person.

...Or maybe he was just pretty. It was difficult to tell right now, and— surprisingly— even more difficult to care. You’d never been packed so outrageously full of sugar, fat, and dough before; hadn't realized the effect this was going to have on you prior to beginning to do it. Before you could say anything else, though, he’d already retrieved his camera, adjusted its settings, and placed it back down on a nearby table so that he could capture his hand’s enjoyment of your belly.

“You really are good at this,” he reiterated as he settled beside you once more and started to rub.

“Thanks,” you said simply, and followed his previous instruction to recline on the mattress. You couldn’t believe how far your stomach stuck up into the air; if you didn’t know better, you’d have thought you were pregnant. He seemed to marvel at it too as he began to let his fingers trail over the drum-tight skin around your bellybutton. That made you moan.

 _”Perfect,”_ he purred. “Just perfect.” 

After that, he trained his attention entirely on your midsection: He stuck his index finger in your bellybutton and wiggled it around, patted you gently where you were most round, and traced lines all over your skin. He seemed to be enjoying himself very much, and in spite of your initial anxiety, you had to admit that so were you. Again, you didn't say a word about it, but you could even feel yourself beginning to throb between your legs. You were certain that if you were to reach down to check, you'd find yourself getting slick, and wet. By the time he took his hand away and moved to shut off the camera, you were moaning and writhing as though this were something in which you took pleasure often. Your eyes opened when you felt his weight come off of the bed.

“See?” he asked, looking down at you admiringly. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“...No,” you admitted, pressing your thighs together. “It wasn’t.”

“I’ll make sure to stick a few extra bills in that envelope of yours before you go,” he assured you. “I know this is hard work, and I’m not about to underpay you for it.”

That made you laugh, but you couldn’t seem to muster any more words. Despite your fresh arousal, you felt your eyes start to close yet again.

“Do you need to rest for a while?” he asked gently, already knowing that the answer to his question was a firm ‘yes’. “It’s alright; I’ll leave you alone for now. It takes a bit of time to put these shoots together, anyway— I’ll just be over at the desk, working on making you a star.” He grinned again when he finished telling you that; through your half-open lids, you realized that you liked his smile a lot.

“Okay,” you murmured, absentmindedly poking your own stomach at the same time as you began to slip into unconsciousness.

Before you did, you heard him say, “Consider what I said about coming back to do this again sometime. It’s like I told you— _you’re a fucking natural.”_ He sounded genuinely impressed.

Those admiring words were the last ones you heard from him before you fell fast asleep, and he went off to edit and share the content you’d helped him to create. Maybe, you thought, coming back once or twice for some more cash (and another belly-rub from your disarmingly enrapturing photographer) wouldn’t be so bad...

...As long, of course, as he didn’t try to get you to take things altogether too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t like this, then it’s definitely not for you, and that’s okay. No, this isn’t the one I said I was going to start; it just showed up in my head, and then in my Notes, and now it’s here.
> 
> Hope you have as much fun with it as I’m already having, lol.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey,” you protested sleepily. “I never said you could film _that._ ”

“The camera shut itself off a few minutes ago,” Anakin told you sedately.

“Then... what are you doing...?” 

You were laying on your back on a bed; another big, comfortable hotel bed, to be exact. You’d just eaten several meals in the space of less than an hour, and your stomach once again bulged painfully from the effort. Most of what you'd consumed that night had been greasy and fatty: Fast-food cheeseburgers, fried chicken, and heaping piles of French fries were among what had been laid out for you.

Normally, you would not have elected to eat that sort of food; particularly not so much of it. Until you'd started to feel too full, though, it had been fun... in an oddly subversive sort of way. By now it was all you could do to lift your head in the interest of looking at your handsome photographer as the belly-rub he’d offered you tonight began to turn into something else.

“I’m sorry,” he said, without sounding very apologetic at all. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You’d been through most of this routine with him on a few different occasions by now; in fact, this was your fourth time letting him document the process of you eating yourself nearly into a coma. Between the compensation he offered and how nice he was to look at, staying away from Anakin was proving far more difficult than you’d have expected. There was something about him that made you want to keep coming back to see him; something you couldn't quite discern. It could have been his appearance (the more reasonable part of your mind was sure that must have been it), but it might have been something else, too. He was unlike anyone you'd ever met before, and not only because of his apparent lack of shame with regard to his own weird kink.

Right now, you were finding that he'd let his hand travel a bit lower than he had any other time you’d encountered him; it was toying with the waistband of your panties (they were sitting just below the bottom of the shockingly round protrusion of your midsection), and threatening to snake its way even further downward.

“Well... sure, it does,” you conceded. “But...” You trailed off, because you weren’t quite sure how to finish that sentence.

“But what...? Should I stop?” You peered up at him; the look on his face almost seemed to indicate concern. You had no idea whether or not it— he— was genuine.

You thought; thought as hard as you could, anyway, while you were half-asleep with a beautiful man’s hand poking around inside your panties. After a long moment of hesitation, “...You said the camera was turned off...?”

“It’s off,” he confirmed. You glanced over at it, and found that the little red light indicating whether or not the device was recording had, indeed, gone dark. Anakin had never tried anything like this before; you weren’t sure what to think of it. You noticed that he’d slid his hand down just a little bit more by that point. He was still gazing at you, but now you were certain that you could detect a ghost of a smile pulling at the side of his admittedly perfect mouth.

“...You don’t have to stop, then,” you finally said, letting your eyes settle on his face. You raised a hand of your own to touch your stomach, and marvelled silently at just how much food you’d managed to stuff into it this evening. You still weren’t quite used to feeling so full, but you _had_ started appreciating the belly-rubs Anakin was apparently kind enough to give you following the meals you ate for him.

Maybe you hadn’t fully realized how much you really did enjoy them: Just as Anakin’s fingers found your slit and began to tease your lips, you noticed how very slick you happened to be between your legs. If you were to have been entirely honest with yourself, you'd have acknowledged that his attention had always made you feel horny... but he'd never directed it toward your cunt; never before now, anyway.

He must have noticed what he'd done to you, too, because you saw his eyes widen as he registered the arousal coating his eager digits. That barely-present little smile of his spread across his face as he observed, “No wonder you’re so good at this— _you love it.”_

You didn’t know what to say to that. “I— well—”

“It’s okay to love it,” he interrupted gently; followed by, “Do you think it would be alright if we slipped these off of you altogether?” as he pulled his hand out of your underwear so he could tug on it instead.

Just what did he want, and why had he chosen now to make it known that he wanted it? You considered his question— _would_ it be alright? You’d already let him photograph and film you in nothing but your bra and panties, and allowed him to touch you rather sensuously... on four separate occasions. You’d fallen asleep in his presence after gorging yourself on cake (among other things), and admired his physical appearance while allowing him to enjoy yours in return. What harm could it really do to to let him stroke your clit for a little while? He wasn’t filming, after all... and he really did seem to want it.

So did you, for that matter, if your slickness and sensitivity were any indication. 

“Okay,” you conceded. “You remember what I said before about trying weird stuff, though... don’t you?”

“I remember,” he confirmed, “and I promise to ask you first if I decide I want to do anything ‘weird’.”

You laughed quietly at that, hooked your own thumbs into your panties, and went on to pull the garment down past your thighs. He was sitting near you on the bed (still entirely clothed), but he moved to allow you to wiggle and kick them the rest of the way off. You knew you weren’t exactly moving adeptly (you felt much too full to be anything approaching graceful), but if the way he watched you was any indication, Anakin certainly didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he said, and you truly couldn’t discern whether he was telling you, or if he was just saying it to himself. 

“You’re nuts,” you informed him, because you still hadn’t quite wrapped your mind around the concept of a man finding you attractive in this state— the state in which you always ended up after working with Anakin.

“If you really thought that,” he countered as he scooted up closely to you, “then you wouldn’t keep coming back to me, would you?” Now that you weren’t wearing anything at all (save for your bra), it was very easy for him to reach between your legs and touch you precisely where he wanted. You gasped as his finger travelled freely, gliding smoothly over your hardened clit as he fondled you.

With another laugh, you answered, “You pay well— and you’ve been pretty decent, at least— _mm!_ — up to now.” 

Chuckling back at you, he very carefully inserted a single digit into your hole; gathered some of your essence on the tip of his finger. Through half-closed eyes, you saw him stick it into his mouth; he looked very happy with the way you tasted. You only shook your head, and tried to relax your body as he went back to exploring you with his hand. You continued to touch your belly while he did; maybe because it felt good, or maybe only because you still weren’t accustomed to it sticking out as far as it was right now.

He traced your lips, rubbed circles around your clit, and teased your opening; all with utmost skill and attentiveness. You were enjoying his affectations so much that you hardly noticed yourself starting to finger your own navel, or poke at your own sheer roundness.

“So,” he ventured, very gently pushing back the tiny hood of your impossibly engorged little nub, “when do you think you’ll be coming back again?” He asked more presumptively than he had the first time... or the second or third, for that matter.

You bucked your hips (which made your bulging stomach shift painfully), and cried out; after that you confessed somewhat shakily, “I don’t actually know if I can keep doing this,” in spite of the fact that you’d just felt yourself gush with immense enthusiasm.

“Why not?” He sounded ever-so-slightly disappointed; however, he didn’t stop his incredibly adept manipulation of your clit.

As you squirmed and groaned, you brought your other hand up to your belly, too; used both of them to stroke and press on it, now. You thought about just how surprisingly nice it felt to do as you answered, “I don’t want to get fat for real,” because you knew that if you continued to do this for him, you’d end up putting on weight— maybe even a lot of it. The thought made you feel more than a bit nervous, not to mention just a little insecure.

“What would be so bad about that?” he asked, seeming not to understand why you might object to the idea of getting too chubby. He stuck his finger into your pussy again; curled it up and pressed on just the right spot to make you groan. You even ended up squirting a some more of your own inexplicable desire out onto his hand. 

“I’m not _supposed_ to get fat,” you breathed, as you held your belly between your hands and rolled your hips in tandem with his touch.

“Who says?” He kept on playing with you; you only barely realized how close you were to achieving an orgasm you'd never have guessed you'd be able to have in this sort of condition.

 _”Ah—_ everyone!” you shouted, much less quietly than you had intended. From your parents to your friends, to every doctor you’d ever met, along with just about all of the media you’d consumed throughout the course of your life— the overwhelming message imparted onto you had always been, ‘don’t get fat’.

“Who cares about what ‘everyone’ says?” he smiled, and he rubbed his thumb up against your clit in a way that caused you to squeeze your eyes shut, and cry out even more loudly than you had the last time. You took your hands away from your stomach, and used them to grip the sheets on either side of yourself instead; thrust your hips into the air. You’d have thought that near-impossible, given how stuffed you were. 

You found yourself unable to answer his question; all you could seem to do was writhe and breathe. From your position on your back, you watched the distended bulge of your belly rise and fall; at the same time, Anakin slowly withdrew his hand from your soaking, throbbing cunt.

“I’ve never paid much attention to what other people say,” he mused aloud, licking his fingers clean. Once he’d done that, he reached out with both of his hands to hold your belly between them, just as you’d been doing yourself only moments ago. He gave you a little shake, which made you groan again. “Anyhow— there’s more money in this for you, if you don’t mind doing a bit of ‘growing’ for me.” 

Still supine, your eyes remained shut as you breathed deeply. You could never have imagined, before meeting Anakin, that any man (particularly not one who looked like him) would ever offer you money in exchange for gaining weight. All you could manage in response to his proposal was a laugh, because despite knowing that he was entirely serious, the whole concept seemed unbelievable to you— absurd, even. 

He shifted his body and moved his hands; began to run his fingers gently over your skin. He started at the top of your belly, and let them trail all the way down your body until they reached your thighs. “Why don’t you sleep on it?” he asked kindly, likely because you hadn’t said a word since he’d made you cum all over his hand. “I’ll still be here when you wake up— and then you can tell me what you think.”

You nodded, because that sounded just fine. You were in no position right now to be making decisions about what you did or didn’t want to do to your body to satisfy your need for extra cash... or Anakin’s seemingly strange desires.

Just as you had the first time you’d come to see him, you rolled heavily onto your side and fell almost immediately into a deep sleep: One induced entirely by a combination of gluttony, and completely unanticipated sexual satisfaction. Were you willing to let him actually make you get fat in exchange for money? Before tonight, you wouldn’t have thought so.

You must really not have been in the correct frame of mind to be making choices, because Anakin (and his fingers) seemed to you to have presented an awfully convincing argument.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a couple of days late, and I'm sorry for that. This chapter is a bit longer, and actually advances the story, though... so yay. It was still a lot of fun to write, despite not being completely pornographic.

The restaurant was crowded, but not so crowded that you didn't notice him sitting across the room. You were standing just inside of the large set of double doors denoting the entrance, along with your friend; the friend who'd invited you out that night for dinner and drinks. Your expression must have betrayed you, because with a knowing smile, she asked you, "Who's _that?"_

"...What?" You knew you sounded rather vacant; it was hard to dismiss just how enraptured you were by the way the formal-looking shirt he was wearing swathed his formidable shoulders, and brought out the cold, cerulean hue of his eyes. "Oh," you finally answered, "he's no one."

"He doesn't _look_ like no one," she smirked, nudging your arm.

"Trust me," you said, "he is." Nobody knew anything about what you'd been doing to earn some extra cash, and you intended to keep it that way. Shifting the subject as swiftly as you could, "Did you book a table, or does one of us have to go and talk to the hostess?"

"No," she admitted, graciously refraining from calling you out on your evasiveness. "I didn't phone ahead. I'll go talk to her now— wait here for a minute, okay?"

"Okay." 

You felt somewhat relieved then, if only because your companion's brief absence meant that you could stare in peace at Anakin for just a few more moments. What was he doing here, anyway? And who was he with? It had been a few weeks since you'd last seen him in person; he'd texted you between then and now, but frankly you'd been blowing him off. It wasn't that you didn't want to spend a bit more time with him; you did: He was kind to you (if not a little pushy); besides that, he was undeniably handsome, and— as you now knew— extremely talented with his hands. In spite of that, though, you still couldn't quite manage to force yourself to be comfortable with what he wanted to do to you; what he _would_ do to you, if only you were to provide him an opportunity.

He stood up from the table at which he'd been sitting at that point, and you were able to get a good look at just who he'd come here with as she rose from her seat, too. For some reason (you weren't sure why, because you weren't in any way close enough to him for it to make sense), you felt a twinge of distinctly covetous anxiety as she did.

He said something to her; you couldn't hear what, but whatever it was, it made her smile. She had a pretty smile, you thought— along with, you noted uncouthly, the precise sort of figure Anakin had made himself out to find especially enticing. Was she someone like you; someone he'd been photographing for his website? Or was she more than that to him— a girlfriend; a partner? You could hardly imagine him being in a serious relationship, partly because of what he did for a living, but you also somehow doubted that he was in the habit of taking his models out for fancy dinners.

Then again, why wouldn't he? Particularly if it might improve their marketability to his primary audience.

This girl, whoever she was, was absolutely 'marketable'. 

He said something else to her then; something that made her laugh... and when she did, her belly and her breasts couldn't help but shake beneath the form-fitting dress she was wearing. You pretended to avert your gaze as they started to make their way toward where you were standing, but you found yourself covertly staring anyhow; first at his date's body as she moved past you, and then at him as he followed. 

Part of you hoped he wouldn't notice you; part of you hoped that he would. He did, of course, although he didn't make it obvious right away. As he held the door open for his date so that she could step through it ahead of him, he did indeed glance back at you; looked at you for just long enough that he was sure he'd caught your eye. You expected him to smile, but instead he shot you the most endearing little pout you'd ever seen, before turning his back to you and rejoining the other girl outside the front doors of the establishment. 

It was a brief interaction; so brief that it could barely have been _called_ an interaction to begin with... but, it impacted you enough that you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him until he was entirely out of your field of vision. What did he mean, exactly, by pouting at you? What was he trying to communicate? Most likely it was that he simply wanted to take more pictures and videos of you for the purpose of making himself some more money... but, then, maybe you'd also hurt his feelings by dismissing his invitations.

Anakin had never said or done anything to indicate that he was someone with feelings quite like those, though... at least, not when it came to you.

You only realized you'd been overthinking his facial expression entirely when your friend reappeared to tell you that she'd spoken to the hostess, and that she was ready to seat you in the dining room.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing," you lied, as you went along with her.

"Staring at that guy some more? I think he left already. Are you sure he's 'no one'? He had somebody with him, you know."

"I know," you said simply, still half-attempting to discern exactly what his 'somebody' meant to him. Maybe not all that much, if he was making eyes at you literally behind her back. You wished you didn't care, but for one reason or another, you did— where were they going now, anyway? Was he going to take pictures of her... or give her one of those belly-rubs you had to admit felt absolutely fantastic? 

Why were you even thinking about any of that, given the fact that you'd been trying to ignore him for weeks? It was only now that you were realizing what an effort brushing him off had really been. Before you could get lost in your (admittedly ridiculous) thoughts once again, however, you sat down at the table to which you'd been led and began to leaf through the restaurant's menu. 

When your friend asked if you wanted to share an appetizer with her, you— for whatever reason— told her that, no, you were incredibly hungry and wanted to have one to yourself. When she balked and asked if you were sure because the dishes here were portioned quite generously, you were steadfast in your decision... and when she told you it was unlikely that she was going to finish her's, you assured her that you would more likely than not be willing to make sure it didn't go to waste.

She gave you a strange look, but she was kind enough not to say anything about it.

...

That evening's meal turned out to be lovely. It was nice to be out with a friend, and the conversation was wonderful; besides that, the food you wound up ordering was both delicious, and exactly as plentiful as you'd been warned. You did eat your own appetizer in its entirety; it had been comprised of fried, stuffed potato skins topped with an incredibly rich cream-cheese concoction, along with a pretty green-onion garnish. Your friend had ended up with grilled oysters served with what might have been the finest garlic butter sauce you'd ever tasted. She had, of course, been either unable or unwilling to finish them; kindly, she had masked her surprise at your uncharacteristic voraciousness as you took on the task for her.

After that you'd ordered a steak-and-lobster tail combination; that had come with its own whole baked potato, and a serving of seasonally appropriate vegetables steamed with what tasted like the same slightly-lemony garlic butter the restaurant used on its oysters. 

You were just finishing it off as your server approached your table to ask if you wanted any dessert. You only had to consider Anakin for a moment before agreeing to a piece of chocolate lava cake... even if you weren't exactly proud of yourself for the way seeing him again had made you feel. (Mostly, somehow, it had made you feel ravenous.)

"What on Earth have you been doing all day to make yourself so hungry?" your friend finally asked with a laugh. It seemed she couldn't restrain herself any longer from remarking upon your food consumption.

"I don't know," you answered vaguely. "Lots of stuff." The cake had arrived by then; you dug into it with a spoon, and let the exquisite fudge they'd used to top it melt on your tongue.

"I've just never seen you eat, well... quite like _this_ ," she observed as tactfully as she could, before adding somewhat hastily, "Not that I'm unhappy you're enjoying dinner."

You shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden. "...I guess I had a bigger day than I thought I had," you said, before resuming your work on the dessert. It was only then that you started to notice exactly how full you felt; your jeans (which had been a bit tight to begin with, most probably thanks to Anakin's 'attention') were downright uncomfortable, now. You could feel their button digging into the underside of your belly, which you knew without having to look down at yourself was swollen, and bulging. 

Your friend was kind enough, once again, not to say anything about it as the two of you got up to leave after you'd finished your cake and settled the bill. Part of you regretted your gluttony; what had you been thinking, really? Was the mere sight of Anakin (and his perfect little pout) enough to cause you to forgo the anxiety you'd had about eating to excess for him the last time you'd been together? 

...Apparently, it was.

...

_It was nice seeing you tonight,_ said the not-wholly-unexpected text message you received from Anakin upon arriving home. You'd freed your stomach gratefully; discarded your jeans in favour of a pair of loose and comfortable pyjama pants only moments after walking in the door.

 _It was nice seeing you too,_ you replied, typing out your response more readily than you'd have liked.

 _It hasn't been easy getting a hold of you,_ said the next text, _and it's not as if I haven't tried._

Inexplicably, that made you feel a bit guilty. The last time you'd seen him, you'd fallen asleep wondering if he didn't have a point about what he wanted you to do... but, since then, you'd mostly convinced yourself that to continue to overeat for money would be less-than-ideal. All it had taken for you to push yourself almost to the point of bursting once again, though, had been for him to look at you. What _was_ it about him? He was handsome, certainly, but you'd known handsome men before, and they'd never been able to make you do anything quite like this.

Then again, none of them had ever wanted to make you fat.

 _I've just been busy,_ you told him, not altogether disingenuously. You did have a real job, after all; friends and family, too.

 _Are you busy right now?_ he asked, which made you give your phone a funny look. What about the girl he'd been out with that night? You supposed he mustn't be with her right at this moment, if he was interested in your availability. Maybe she really was just another one of his models, as opposed to somebody with more emotional significance. You wanted to ask, but didn't; you knew better than to do that.

 _I'm at home now,_ you said, _but I think I'm just about done for tonight._ You almost added that you'd eaten a lot at dinner, and that doing so had made you rather sleepy... but, once more, you didn't. Again, you knew better.

 _Oh,_ he wrote next, and you could envision him pouting at you again. _What about tomorrow, then?_ You hadn't remembered him incorrectly at all; he definitely was a bit pushy. Tomorrow was Friday; you didn't have to work the morning after, and you also hadn't made any other plans yet. 

_I'm free then,_ you typed, before you had a chance to really contemplate it too much. The sheer enormity of your meal that evening really had made you drowsy, and a large part of you simply wanted to fall asleep. Absentmindedly, you placed a hand on the roundest part of your little gut; thought completely unintentionally about how nice it would be to have Anakin massage it with one of those warm, adept hands of his.

 _In that case, would you like to take some new pictures? I think everybody misses you,_ he said, in reference to the people who visited his site. You wondered if he missed you at all, too, before deciding that it would be silly if he did. He had plenty of bellies just like yours to rub at his leisure; at least, that was what you thought.

After less consideration than you probably ought to have given his offer, you messaged back, _Alright, sure._ Then, _Same place as always?_

There was a pause prior to your phone going off again. _I could book a room, or you could just come over to my house. Whatever you feel okay with._

Were you okay with the idea of visiting him at home? You'd seen him several times by this point, even if it had been a little while since your last encounter. You didn't trust him, exactly, but you also didn't have any real cause not to. If he were in the habit of victimizing the young women who worked for him in any way, he wouldn't have so many of them willing to pose for and work with him... would he?

You thought about the expression on the face of the girl he'd been out with earlier tonight as they'd left the restaurant together; that was enough to make your decision for you, whether it was a wise one or not.

 _Tell me where to meet you,_ you conceded, _and I'll see you then._

The next message you received contained an address (one whose location just so happened to be in one of the 'nicer' parts of town), along with an assurance that you wouldn't regret deciding to come and join him for another photography session. He requested that you wear the same outfit you'd worn the first time you'd ever gone to see him, which you supposed was a bit odd, but which you also didn't think too much about before agreeing to do it.

It was getting late, and tonight, all you wanted to do was to sleep off the fullness you'd imposed on yourself when you'd been consumed by thoughts of Anakin over dinner with your friend. 

You were glad that nobody except for you knew just how much you were looking forward to spending some time with him... or, for that matter, his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first week of September is always a shitshow, so I've been behind not only as far as writing and socializing is concerned, but with basically the entire rest of my life, too. I can commit to updating this story at least once every thirty days for now; maybe more than that if I have both time and inspiration. 
> 
> I like where it's going, and in the next couple of chapters we will certainly be getting to more of the good stuff (as in, the stuff I've tagged). 
> 
> Have a lovely, chubby day. :)


	4. Chapter 4

The house was big; bigger than you'd have expected for a man who made his money producing fat porn, anyway. Tall and wide, it had a large lawn, a well-maintained garden, and an absolutely pristine facade. It was situated in a sprawling neighbourhood populated by other houses much like it, all of them spaced out just enough to offer an impression of privacy. You'd have honestly thought that Anakin's preferred 'genre' of entertainment was a bit niche... but, between the nice hotel rooms, the fancy restaurant, and now _this_ , you were beginning to believe you'd misjudged the popularity of the content he produced. 

After pulling into the driveway (it had enough space for several cars, and was attached to a large garage on top of that, although his was the only vehicle present other than your own), you took out your phone to text him and let him know you'd arrived. Your thumb travelled swiftly across the keys on your screen as you exited the car, but before you could press 'send', you heard a voice— his voice. Apparently he'd already registered your arrival, and was now coming out the door to greet you.

"Hey there," he said, shooting you an undeniably beautiful smile as he met you at the top of the driveway. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"It's barely been a month," you reminded him, although you didn't quite scoff. If it felt to him as though it had been longer, then that must have meant he'd really wanted to see you. It was stupid, you thought... but maybe that was why you couldn't help smiling back.

He shrugged; one of those particularly charming, nonchalant shrugs of his that somehow made him seem particularly captivating. "It's like I told you," he said. "Everybody misses you. Come on in, and we'll get started." As he turned to lead you up a set of stone steps and into the house, he asked with what you could have sworn was a wry lilt, "What are you wearing _that_ for?"

You knew he meant the large, hooded zip-up sweater you'd tossed on atop the outfit he'd requested you wear to come and see him. You could feel heat rising in your face, but you managed to answer anyway upon stepping into the foyer, "I guess I hadn't realized just how long it had been since I last wore these jeans." 

They'd always fit you snugly, but when you had put them on tonight in preparation for your visit to Anakin's home, you'd found yourself barely able to zip them up: You'd put on enough weight since starting your work with him that they'd been rendered close to unwearable. You had tossed on the hoodie, because frankly, you thought you looked ridiculous. As it turned out, you had underestimated the effect on your body of the big meals he liked to watch you eat: Every time you'd gone to see him, you'd increased both your stomach's capacity and, consequently, your appetite. Even when you hadn't been with him, you'd certainly been eating more... and before this evening, you supposed you hadn't quite acknowledged just how _much_ more.

Anakin, for his part, seemed excited by your response to his question; it looked as if he could hardly contain himself as he asked you with a knowing tilt of his head, "...Really? What do you mean by that, exactly?"

You almost scowled at him, because you knew that he already knew the answer to that. "They don't fit," you said plainly, trying unsuccessfully to will away the pink hue still invading your facial complexion. Looking around at the interior of the house instead of at him helped a bit; it was modern, mostly open-concept, and very well-lit. You guessed the house of a photographer should be well-lit, but it made you feel a little bit more exposed than you had outside on the driveway.

"They don't?" he asked anyway, with what you suspected was feigned surprise. Then, without even attempting not to grin, "Show me."

You hesitated. That was why you were here, though, wasn't it? To let him both see and document how... well, _big_ you looked. Still, you were embarrassed; wished for a moment that you could see this the way he saw it before acquiescing, and beginning to tug down the zipper on the front of your sweater.

Anakin must not have been able to help himself— he drew in a breath as you slipped it off altogether, letting it fall to the floor as you revealed your body to him. It was a sharp breath; one which told you that he was exhilarated by the mere sight of you. "That's incredible," he said, looking you up and down. Then, "You really don't realize how beautiful you look right now, do you?"

This time you did scoff. "I'd be lying if I said I did," you admitted, placing a hand defensively upon the soft, round, fresh bulge of your stomach. Your shirt, a tank-top, was riding up almost to your belly-button; the waistband of your jeans encircled your hips tightly, creating a noticeable muffin-top. "I hope _you_ like it— it's your fault, you know."

He laughed. "My 'fault'?" After appearing to think for a moment, "You know, I'd be happy to take credit for making you even more lovely than you were to begin with." He started to reach out toward your belly with his hand, but then he stopped himself. "Can I?" he asked, in just such a way to indicate that he'd very much like to touch you. 

At least he was still being polite.

You paused briefly before answering, "...Go ahead," because a big part of the reason you'd come here tonight (although you weren't about to admit it to him) was because you'd wanted to experience his touch again. Even if he was a bit pushy and, from your point of view at least, more than a little weird, you'd quickly come to appreciate the sensation of his warm, attentive hands.

The one he'd extended for the purpose of feeling your stomach resumed its journey toward you at your response: He let his fingertips trail over the portion of it that popped out from your waistband; pressed down gently as they crept around to your side to experience that brand-new muffin-top. You drew in a breath of your own; you couldn't rightly tell if you were uncomfortable, or if it felt good. As you bit down on your lip, you did notice a distinct throbbing sensation between your legs, just like every other time he'd run his hands over your midsection. It shouldn't have surprised you, but it did— it always did. What were you getting out of this, exactly? You truly didn't know, but all of a sudden it was once more very clear to you why you'd come back to him again, besides the generosity of his compensation.

He stopped when a sound escaped you; something between a moan and a whine. "See?" he asked, as though he'd proven something to you. "Like I said— _beautiful."_

You were almost frustrated at his having stopped when he did, but again, you tried not to betray the way you felt. "I'm glad you think so," you told him, sounding a bit more breathless than you'd have liked. Taking one more look around, you asked him, "How do you want to do this tonight? Do you have something already set up, or...?"

With a chuckle, "You're eager to get to work, then? That's good, but I was sort of hoping you wouldn't be in too much of a rush."

"Why?" You gave him a curious look. You hoped he didn't expect you to stay here overnight. Sleeping off your gluttony in a hotel bed while he edited your photos was one thing, but you didn't feel quite so secure now that you were in his home. You still didn't know much of anything about him, after all, except for what seemed to turn him on.

He offered you another one of those endearing shrugs, and answered calmly, "When I said that everyone missed you, I guess I wasn't just talking about the people who like to look at your pictures."

Was he trying to tell you that _he_ had missed you, too? While it would certainly have explained the little pout he'd shot you back at the restaurant, you were certain he was lying. Slipping off your shoes, you countered, "You can't have missed me that much. How many other girls do you do this with, anyway?" All of a sudden, his date from the restaurant popped into your mind. 

"Lots," he conceded, "but I don't necessarily make a habit of inviting them over to my house."

You studied his face, because you were quite sure he was lying about that, too... but, trying to read him proved useless. "If you say so," you said, electing not to argue for now. You might have enjoyed the way he touched you (and the way he paid you), but you weren't going to make the mistake of believing that you were special to him; not even a little bit. That girl from the restaurant, you were sure, was 'special', too... along with dozens of others, if his website was any indication.

"I do say so," he said decidedly. "Now— you look hungry, and that belly of yours feels awfully empty. Why don't you tell me what you want to eat? Anything at all; whatever it is, I'll have it delivered."

That surprised you a bit; you'd assumed he'd already have chosen something for you to consume, and that he'd already set it up along with his photography equipment. You thought about both his offer and his observation. He wasn't wrong; you really were hungry... whether you liked it or not.

"...I want pizza," you finally answered, in contrast to the fact that Anakin was clearly financially well-off enough that you could have picked something significantly more fancy. It was one of your favourite foods, and one of the ones of which you'd always felt as though you had to limit your enjoyment. There was clearly no need for that sort of consideration here, and so when it occurred to you, you figured you might as well be honest about it.

Luckily, he seemed to approve.

"Fantastic," he grinned. "I fucking love watching beautiful girls eat pizza— and so does everybody else. How much do you think you can handle?" It almost sounded like he was posing you a challenge.

"As much as you want to order for me. Have I ever disappointed you by not eating enough?"

"No," he said. "Never— not even once."

With that, he turned— presumably to retrieve his phone— while he motioned for you to follow him further into the house. You did, curious about just where he was planning on having you sit and eat the meal you'd selected. Did he have a miniature studio set up in the basement, or a guest room? Was he going to try to get you to sit on his own bed?

You had no idea, really, but somehow you had begun to look forward to your evening together more than you'd anticipated. Even if you were just here to work (and be touched), you figured there was no shame in taking a bit of extra pleasure in what you'd already decided you were going to do.

After all, you already had that little belly which had embarrassed you enough that you'd had to throw a sweater over it just to drive here. Since it certainly wasn't going to go away overnight, what was really the harm in indulging it a little more? Especially if Anakin was going to touch you after you'd eaten.

Suddenly, right then, you felt hungrier than you could ever remember feeling before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got finished sooner than I thought it would, mostly because fat porn is my happy-place and I need some of that this week. 
> 
> Don't worry, I've already started on what he's gonna do to her when the pizza comes. :D Hand-feeding, belly-grabs, and deeply-ingrained shame intrinsically connected with arousal, yay!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit long, because I got completely carried away and there's really nowhere for me to split it up.

"Shouldn't you be taking pictures?" you asked, before leaning in to take another bite of the pizza Anakin had ordered to the house at your request. You had to admit that it tasted incredible; it was covered in heaping portions of both pepperoni and bacon, and it was absolutely dripping with cheese. Even its crust was soft, doughy, and _fantastic_ , and although you weren't quite sure just where he'd gotten it from, you did know that it was perfect— precisely what you'd wanted, plus more than you could have imagined. 

You hadn't eaten anything like it in a very long time; despite the fact that you were nearly three quarters of the way through the generously-portioned, extra-large serving he'd been so kind as to send away for, you were still enjoying yourself immensely. You were getting full, certainly— but that didn't seem to matter to you; not this time, and not right now.

"I took some already," he excused himself as you swallowed, "and I'll take some more when you're finished. This is just too much fun for me to want stop right now. I didn't think you'd let me feed you; not like this." When you opened your mouth to denote that you wished for him to stick more food inside of it, he smiled at you as he fed you another bite and asked, "Are you having fun, too?"

Without looking down, you placed a hand on your belly and rubbed at it. You'd taken off your jeans earlier, happy to have freed your stomach from the confines of the newly-undersized denim. Anakin had wanted to take pictures of you wearing them first, of course, which you'd let him do. You understood, now, why he'd photographed you fully-clothed the first time you'd come to him: He'd been hoping the whole time that you'd gain weight for him, and he liked having comparison photos for the purpose of tracking just how fat you were getting.

He'd mused about what you might look like in another couple of month's time; you hadn't told him outright that you still didn't plan on doing this for very much longer. As nice as it might have felt for him to rub your belly, you weren't especially fond of the idea of it growing too much bigger. 

You weren't, however, thinking about that right at this moment.

"I _am_ having fun," you admitted, continuing to eat out of his hand. He shifted his body, and although he was still fully-clothed, you could detect a very distinct bulge in his pants; one denoting the pleasure he was taking in having you eat like this for him. You, at the same time, just so happened to still be throbbing. You wondered if Anakin could tell yet that this was making you wet.

You were sitting, for the moment, amongst a pile of large, fluffy pillows atop a soft rug in the centre of what seemed to be his living room. Anakin had dimmed the lights a bit, and even gone so far as to turn on his gas-powered fireplace— his reasoning for that, of course, being that his house tended to get cold; the last thing he wanted, he'd said, was for you to get too chilly while you sat in your underwear and ate for him. He hadn't mentioned the mood it had helped to set; neither had you, because you liked it.

Reaching up, you moved to adjust your bra. You were wearing the same black, lacy piece (along with the matching panties) you'd worn the first time you'd ever done this. You had managed to get the stains from the doughnut fillings out of it, but there was nothing you could do to make it bind you less tightly. 

"That looks uncomfortable," he observed, reaching out to give your bra strap a little tug. 

You could feel the heat rising in your face yet again. You really didn't want to pose without it, and you knew he wasn't finished taking pictures yet. "It's fine," you said, in a voice that came out sounding smaller than you'd have liked. 

He went quiet for a few moments. His eyes scanned your body; you were sitting on your knees. Your belly had rendered your panties invisible by this point, and when you looked down at yourself, you noticed for the first time that even your thighs were looking a bit thicker than what you were used to. 

"...I could put the camera away for tonight," Anakin finally ventured, letting his hand trail over your breasts as they popped out from undersized cups, and then along your belly as it did its own protruding from beneath them. It made you squeak, and whine.

"I thought the camera was the reason I was here in the first place," you breathed, not quite having expected what he seemed to be offering.

"I like you, you know," he told you, in lieu of actually addressing what you'd said. As he fingered your belly-button gently, he added, "I like you _a lot."_

You gasped, and when you fought the urge to suck in your stomach, you found yourself pulsing and leaking even more than you'd been before. Why did it feel so good to be so full? It must have been Anakin's attention, you thought. You wished he would take his clothes off, too: You'd never had the privilege of seeing him in any state of undress; not, of course, that you hadn't thought of it before.

You reached around behind your back to unhook your bra. You knew that to move in a way that allowed you to do so made your belly stick out even more dramatically, and as you discarded what you'd been wearing to conceal your breasts, you noticed that Anakin had already started to unbutton the top portion of his own shirt.

You didn't actually believe what he was saying about 'liking' you, let alone liking you 'a lot'. 

"I like you, too," you said anyhow, and you watched intently as he slowly revealed his body to you. All of a sudden, it felt like you'd been waiting forever to see him like this. Of course, you'd never really had _cause_ to see him like this before— you'd considered your relationship to be business-oriented; at least, you had up until very recently. 

He more likely than not had sex with every single girl whose photos appeared on his site; probably under these exact circumstances, too, you thought. That should have bothered you... so, why didn't you care about it right now? Maybe for the same reason you didn't care about how much pizza you'd just consumed. 

"If we like each other," he reasoned with a smile, "then maybe we could just forget about taking pictures for the rest of tonight."

He'd discarded his shirt to the floor beside you along with your bra, by now. His chest was broad and smooth, and somehow so strong and well-defined that it looked as though it could have been carved from stone. His arms were the same; thick, but not at all like your thighs... and his stomach, frankly, looked like something out of a magazine. You'd expected him to be attractive beneath his clothes, of course, but you'd never have dared to anticipate _this._

He was, put quite simply, perfect. Why the hell was he so fixated on making girls fat? You couldn't know; really, it was just another thing that didn't matter to you right now, whether it ought to have or not. You weren't proud of it, but right at this moment, you were just happy you happened to be appealing enough to him to make him want to disrobe for you.

"What do you want to do instead of take pictures?" you asked him, because you wanted to hear him say it.

"I want to play with you," he said. 

What, like a toy? Was that was his models were to him— toys? 

"Then let's play," you said instead of what you were thinking, because in spite of everything, you wanted to play with him, too. You were the one who reached out this time, and when you did, you grabbed at that pronounced bulge of his; the one you knew meant he was hard for you.

With an almost aggressive-looking glint in his eye, he practically bared his teeth as he rose up on his knees and started to pull at his belt. Without saying another word, he swiftly shimmied out of everything he'd been wearing on his lower half; kicked his pants away behind himself as he leaned in closely to where you sat on the fluffy heap of pillows he'd laid out to ensure your comfort. Had he been planning this all along?

Now that it was free, you grasped his cock in your hand; gave it a squeeze. It was as perfect as the rest of his body seemed to be. You might have taken him by surprise, because he made a noise— a grunt or a groan, or something like it. "Why didn't you ever tell me you wanted this?" he asked, as he replaced his hand on your stomach.

"I thought I shouldn't," you told him, relishing his touch. "I thought I was just here to pose." You didn't tell him you thought he was strange, or that his oddness had caused you to feel the need to be cautious around him. The time for being cautious seemed to have passed, anyway, no matter how 'different' Anakin was.

He laughed, "You're fucking gorgeous— more and more, every time I see you. How could I not want to play with you like this?"

You didn't answer him except to squeeze his hard-on again... and so he pushed you backwards onto the pillows, and crept up on top of you. Suspending himself above you with one hand, he used the other to reach down and grab a generous handful of your hip. That made you feel fat; however, right now, feeling fat felt good. 

"I don't play gently," he warned, as you admired the way his hair fell around his face.

"I never would have expected you to," you grinned, and that seemed to empower him to tighten his grip on your flesh. 

Just as he liked to say to you while you were eating for him, he answered that with, "Good girl," and went on to lean in and bite your neck. He bit hard; sucked on your skin as he mouthed his way down your body, digging both his nails and teeth into you. When he reached your chest, he bit and sucked on your breasts, too; rolled your nipples between his teeth. That made you squeal, to which he said, "Your tits are getting fucking huge— how much bigger do you think I can make them?" 

"How much bigger do you _want_ them?" you asked, writhing around beneath his touch. You were curious to know what he'd say to that. How fat did Anakin really feel like making you?

He was kissing and licking the upper part of your belly by then; the part that was bulging almost painfully with the pizza he'd fed you. He chuckled into your skin; you could feel his lips' vibration, which made you close your eyes and breathe in deeply. "Bigger than I know you'll let me make them," he answered, as your belly swelled even further with the air you'd taken in, and he moved to begin to tongue your navel.

With another squeal, you took a handful of his hair; it was soft and felt almost delicate, in sharp contrast to the rest of him. He was still hanging onto that muffin-top you'd been trying so hard to hide on your way here; apparently its existence was not dependent on your jeans. He gave it a shake as he nibbled on the bottom part of your belly-button; murmured through his teeth something about how fantastic he thought it felt. 

When you bucked your hips, he seemed to decide it was time to begin rolling your panties down. "You're so fat I forgot you were even wearing these," he told you, and he sat back up on his knees to tug them over your thighs. You helped him; shimmied the rest of the way out of them, and kicked them away. After that, you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position; being between his legs offered you the perfect opportunity to lean forward and put your lips around the head of his cock. It was stiff and dripping, and you couldn't stop yourself from wanting to taste him. 

Once again, he seemed surprised, but he didn't push you back down or try to stop you. Instead, he laughed and asked if you were still hungry, to which you responded by turning your gaze upward and nodding while you took as much of him into your mouth as you thought you could. 

"See? _You're a fucking natural,"_ he said, just like he'd told you the first time you'd ever stuffed yourself for him. It was his turn to grab a handful of your hair, now, and so he did while he began to push his cock further into your mouth. You swallowed at the head of it, which made him start to thrust his hips— _that_ almost caused you to gag on him, but you didn't; instead, you blinked away the tears stinging your eyes, and reached up to touch his stomach. You loved his abs just as much as he seemed to love your fat little belly; if this was what you were going to get in exchange for letting him make you chubby, then perhaps it _was_ worth it to gain a few more pounds for Anakin.

He began to pulse in your mouth; just as you were sure you were about to feel him go off onto the back of your tongue, he pulled your head away from his cock by your hair. He wasn't gentle, but you didn't mind. "Not yet," he insisted, and he ordered you to lay back on the pillows again. You obeyed, curious as to what he was going to do next, and also just how he was going to do it.

He got down between your legs like he was going to eat you out, but he didn't start right away— it seemed he wanted, first, to explore the changes his having encouraged you to overeat had wrought upon your body. He took your belly between his hands first; it was tightly packed with meat and cheese, but the bottom of it was still especially soft. He started sedately; squishing and jiggling and poking at you, but soon he decided he'd rather see just how big a handful of your flesh he could take at one time.

Once he'd gathered as much of you as he could in his fist, he shook you roughly; grinned as he admired the way your hips and thighs rippled in response to the motion.  
Your thighs, in particular, must have captivated him, because he went after them next. He pinched them, which made you squeak; then he squeezed them hard enough to make you yell. You knew you were going to wind up with marks from where his fingers and his nails had dug into you, but that was just yet another thing you couldn't bring yourself to care about. Finally, he bit into them with his teeth much as he had when he'd been enjoying your breasts; produced a sound which seemed to indicate he couldn't get enough of the way you felt. 

"Look at this," he demanded, and as you obeyed his instruction, he took hold of your hips; showed you just how much of them he could gather up before giving you another hard shake. Being shown directly just how fat you'd become made you feel embarrassed; however, it also made you wish he would start stroking your clit already. Part of you strongly disliked how soft and doughy you seemed to have become; part of you genuinely enjoyed how much Anakin seemed to love it. 

You imagined how ashamed you would wind up feeling if you gained enough weight for people to start noticing; pictured yourself giving up on your old clothes in favour of buying new ones; _bigger_ ones. You thought about how hungry you knew you'd be in the morning; considered how stretched-out and empty your stomach was going to feel until you filled it up again. You mused about your face starting to look fat; your arms. How long would you need to eat this way before you didn't recognize yourself in the mirror anymore? Just what sort of path had Anakin started you on?

"You're fucking beautiful like this," he reiterated. "Tell me what it would take to make you my chubby little slut— whatever you want, I'll give it to you so long as you keep getting fat for me."

Without giving you time to answer, he finally dove into your pussy. Starting with your outer lips, he licked and sucked and gathered up your arousal with his fingers, too. You were absolutely soaked; every time he'd told you how fat you looked, it seemed, you had gushed unreservedly. Besides that, the warmth and attention of his hands, once again, had worked you up into a frenzy. You'd never experienced the satisfaction of him using his tongue on you like this; as you bucked into his mouth and enjoyed the way he fingered you with one hand, you revelled in the way he poked and prodded at your stomach with the other. You swore you could feel him clipping your clit with his teeth; it made you yell, but he didn't stop.

 _"Fuck!"_ you shouted. "Anakin, I—" 

"Quiet," he half-gasped, coming up for air. "Don't talk to me— _cum for me._ "

Kindly, he seemed to want to make that order easy for you to obey; after thrusting his tongue in and out of your hole a few times, he curled a single finger up inside of you, and sealed his lips around your clit as he flicked it rhythmically with his tongue. Squeezing your eyes shut at the sheer strength of the sensation, you tossed your head back and shouted as you finally allowed yourself to reach your peak. He held you down with the hand he'd been using to pinch your fat while he helped you ride out your climax; when he was sure you were finished, he pulled back to admire just how much of your own desire you'd spilled onto his hand, and the pillows, too.

You were still catching your breath when he told you, "Now turn over— I want you on your hands and knees."

You knew that meant he wanted to stick that gorgeous cock of his inside you; you'd been eager for him to offer to do it, and so in spite of both your fullness and the lingering effects of your orgasm, you followed his instruction. Maneuvering less-than-gracefully, you turned yourself around eagerly. "Like this?" you asked, once you thought you were in position.

"Just like that— can you still reach the rest of the pizza?"

Huh? "I can. What are you—"

"Put your face in it," he ordered. "I want you to keep stuffing yourself while I fuck you."

"You _what?"_

"I want you eating while I fill you up," he repeated. "Are you going to keep being a good girl for me, or not?"

You supposed you weren't going to stop now. You did, indeed, want him to fill you up; if he needed you to continue to stuff your face while he did, then you certainly weren't going to refuse. With a deep breath, you reached out to grab the box; it wasn't far from you. You positioned it so that it was right beneath your face, and then— sans hands— you started to eat again. As soon as he was sure your mouth was full, he thrust his dripping cock hastily inside of you; although you were more than ready for him, you couldn't help but moan through your mouthful of sausage and bacon.

"That's right," he praised, reaching around to grab at your belly. "You're fucking perfect, you know that? My fat little whore— and you're only going to get fatter for me, aren't you?" He drew back with his other hand and slapped your ass hard enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes.

You were too busy chewing to properly answer him, so in lieu of words, you tightened yourself around his shaft, milking it greedily while you felt him throb. If this was what he liked, then you weren't about to deny him; not if it meant you got to feel the way he was making you feel right now. You'd never been treated quite like this, but you were finding that you loved it; whether you should have or not, you wanted more— lots more.

How fat did he really want you? As big as his date at the restaurant, or even bigger than that? You were scared and excited all at once, breathing heavily through your nose as you kept on devouring the last of the dinner he'd ordered you. It tasted almost as incredible as his dick felt pillaging you.

He fucked you until he couldn't hold on anymore; when he finally reached his own breaking-point, he burst into you unreservedly with a hearty yell. He squeezed your ass as he drained, pushing himself as far into you as your physiology would allow before wrenching himself out and tracing your dripping, swollen lips with his finger.

You swallowed the last of what was in your mouth while you groaned, and finally sank heavily back into the pile of pillows. Yes, you thought— he'd definitely put those down for a reason. When you found it within yourself to turn over and look at him, you saw him staring down at you with a lopsided, half-grin on his face. He looked absolutely fantastic naked; you knew he thought the same of you, because he hadn't seemed to be able to stop telling you.

Almost as if he'd read your mind, he told you right then, "You look fucking incredible," before lowering himself down to the floor alongside you, and using his thumb to wipe the pizza sauce off of your face. 

Closing your eyes, you let yourself relax while he stroked your stomach some more, and murmured to himself about how much he loved watching you eat. Eventually you would fall unconscious, forgetting everything you'd told yourself earlier about not sleeping at his house. 

You still didn't quite trust him, but right now, trusting him didn't seem to matter to you any more than anything else you ought to have been concerned with that night. 

For now, it was just nice to know that the rest of Anakin's body was as warm and enthusiastic as you'd always known his hands to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to be said about that one, other than it was way more fun to write than it ought to have been. Normally I portray Anakin as being pretty submissive, sexually, so this was kind of a fun change of pace for me. Hope it was enjoyable for you, too. :) 
> 
> (I guess this is why I gave him two working hands in this AU lol.)
> 
> Eta on Dec. 4th: This should update soon. :) I've never written an especially feminine Reader before, but that's how I picture he girl in this story, so... I'm trying. Lol.


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